Read Online Echoes in the Dark by Robin D. Owens - Free Book Online

her head. The Ghost
Hill Hotel was lovely and she had the Presidential Suite.
    But
what was truly excellent was the music. She didn’t know what radio station the
hotel carried, but it was primo, something she thought she’d never find in
Denver, though that public station in Greeley came close.
    The
piece was new-age ambient, full orchestral with rich, intricate melodies, and
the acoustics of the room were wonderful since the sound surrounded her. Better
than her home system. She’d get her sound engineer here to talk to the
management.
    She
frowned, rubbed her face. She had ended a tour yesterday, that meant the
crew was officially on vacation and—
    She
was due at her great-grandmother’s at ten! She scrambled up, shoving the
binding covers down, bad dreams again.
    Weird
dreams—
    Ishi
would never forgive her for being late.
    Ishi
was dead.
    That
came flooding back, along with all the regrets and emptiness of her life. She
fell back against fat pillows.
    A
flash of scarlet and there was a beautiful red bird sitting on a perch near the
bed. It trilled a liquid melody. We are in Lladrana, where we belong.
    Jikata
blinked and blinked again. Cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon?” Her voice
was raspy. Everything seemed slightly off.
    The
bird fluttered to the bed next to her. Jikata wrinkled her nose but didn’t
smell musty feathers or bird manure. She smelled lavender.
    I
am Chasonette. We are here, we are home, we will triumph!
    A
mind-singing bird. Not slightly off…way off.
    Music
all around. Jikata concentrated and thought she could hear music coming from
the very walls of this place and that sent a little shiver down her spine.
    Harp
notes rose and fell, then came the creak of a door, followed by the wonderful
smells of eggs and bacon, freshly baked bread. Saliva pooled in Jikata’s mouth.
A plump young woman walked in bearing a tray, obviously breakfast. Jikata
shouldn’t eat so heavily…but she was coming off a long, stressful tour.
    She
noticed the food first then her gaze went from the red lacquered tray to the
woman and she stared in disbelief. Music streamed from the maid in
simple, repetitive notes. Jikata shook her head hard enough to dizzy herself.
But when she stopped, the woman’s music was still there.
    Chasonette
fluffed her feathers. The bird, too, emanated music without one warble from her
throat, a high lovely tune that seemed to pierce Jikata’s heart.
    Jikata
recalled the notion that she had a soundtrack for her life. True again this
morning. More disturbing now. Surely it had to be in her mind, but she could
live with it.
    The
woman dipped a curtsy and flushed a little. Jikata scooted back, wary, but
ready to be served. She didn’t keep servants herself, but had stayed at homes
of both old wealth and nouveau riche where maids were common.
    After
a tour she treated herself to resorts where she could be pampered. Perhaps this
was just one and she’d forgotten the travel, or the Philberts had arranged for
her transport. She wondered what sort of spa facilities this place had.
    Speaking
in a Frenchlike patter—or perhaps patois—Jikata didn’t understand, the serving
woman set the tray on Jikata’s lap. Chasonette nipped half a slice of bacon and
after crunching a chunk, dropped the rest in a small china dish on the corner
of the tray that held a mixture of seeds.
    The
bird was going to eat from Jikata’s tray? That couldn’t be sanitary.
Chasonette buried her beak in the bowl.
    A
word from the woman caught Jikata’s ear with the rising inflection of a
question. “Po-tat-oes?”
    Jikata
stared and the servant repeated it. “Potatoes?”
    Potatoes
for breakfast! Glancing at her plate, Jikata saw scrambled eggs with cheese
decorated with pepper and dill, and two strips of bacon. She shouldn’t even be
having this. An egg-white omelet with fresh vegetables and a touch of cheese,
an in-season fruit cup. Nothing like this. The thought of the cheesy eggs on
her tongue made her mouth